Dyani forced herself to wake up early by drinking a large amount of water the night before. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she slipped out her bedroom window, startling two young boys having a huddled conversation.
They gave her identical wide eyed expressions and ran from her.
“What in the goddess’s name?” Dyani muttered, watching their backs until they turned a corner. She shook her head, dismissing them in favor of her current mission.
But as she ran to Hoss’s Pawn, she saw other strangers. Most appeared homeless, but others were simply sweaty and disheveled. Despite her rush, she took a moment to ask a young woman with a baby what was going on.
“It was those shattered termites, the city guard. They’ve been roaming the streets more than usual, them and their beasts, but today they flooded the streets.”
“They started turning people from their homes, pushing them from the district. They have guards at all the entrances, checking people over before they can leave. I don’t know who they’re looking for, but I hope they find them soon.”
Her baby started crying so Dyani thanked the woman and continued on her way. So the guards were searching for a person, not an object or pet. Dyani wasn’t an expert on manhunts, but this didn’t feel like a search for criminal. Any crime significant enough to warrant this kind of action would be public knowledge.
Dyani pondered who this mysterious person could be as she navigated the growing crowds, finally making it to Hoss’s Pawn. The door was locked, the lights dark, and a closed sign hung in the window.
She paced anxiously for a few minutes, then pounded on the door. Either he wasn’t inside, or he didn’t want to come to the door. Finally, Dyani gave up on speaking with him before she came back with her mom. If she didn’t head home soon, her absence would be noticed.
She noticed a large number of stall or store owners had responded to the influx of uprooted people by opening early. Some people were even opening their homes as temporary inns.
Too bad Hoss hadn’t been one of those enterprising merchants. Now she was hoping that he’d respond to the crowds by opening late or not at all. He wasn’t social at the best of times, maybe all these people would scare him off and his store would still be closed when she brought her mother.
She wasn’t so lucky.
Even in the increasingly crowded streets, most gave Nymin a wide berth. Her human appearance and calm demeanor kept anyone from mistaking her for a monster, but people still had their prejudices.
A few even made the mark of the goddess, pinching all the fingers on one hand together, placing them on their forehead, and pushing them out. It mimicked the shattering of the moon and was supposed to ward away evil.
Her mother ignored them, totally unaffected, but Dyani seethed as she always did when someone disrespected her mother.
She wanted to scream at the bigots that it was their precious goddess and her moon that had given her mother’s talent. If they wanted to distrust someone, maybe it should be someone who awarded random magical abilities with no rhyme or reason.
But she knew what they’d say.
Even before her father died, Dyani’s family rarely worshiped at the temple, but she had a crisp memory of the last time she’d attended. She’d asked a priestess why the goddess gave specific talents to specific people.
Either the woman hadn’t known about Dyani’s mother or Dyani’s temper, because she proceeded to explain that the goddess knew all her children’s potential, and awarded talents designed to make them their best selves, and that detrimental talents were given to shackle the least deserving and limit the harm they could cause.
Being six years old was all that saved her from being banned from that temple, after she tipped over a brazier and lit a fire that required three priests using skills in tandem to extinguish. That was a very educational day for Dyani. She’d learned about eternal flames and half a dozen new swear words.
Nymin had scolded her, but the light behind her eyes made it clear how touched she was at Dyani’s defense of her. Rotomin had been openly proud, and had used the opportunity to instruct her on the mechanics of eternal flame.
Eternal flames had no religious significance, but they were still a popular choice for temple braziers, since they required no fuel to sustain themselves.
They weren’t truly eternal, since they required mana to sustain themselves. That was one of the three ways to extinguish them, to starve them of mana. But purging an area of ambient mana was so difficult and time consuming that it wasn’t the most practical choice.
The next method was to deprive the flame of three things, air, heat, and light. This was how the priests had finally put the fire out, each of the three of them handling a single element.
Finally, like just about anything, you could just throw enough magic at the problem that it went away. A powerful ice skill from a level 15 could extinguish a level 1 eternal flame without a problem, as long as it wasn’t allowed to feed so much it increased in size or level.
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BOY?!”
Dyani was ripped from her memory by a shrill screech. She spun to see a woman in red and gold livery with a finger in her mother’s face. A young man about Dyani’s age was sitting on the street, rubbing his head and looking woozy, but unharmed.
Dyani’s heart sank as she realized what happened. Her mother was usually very careful about using her Wraith’s Hunger skill, but she still used it to absorb ambient mana whenever she had a chance.
And since their financial situation had worsened, she would need to use it even more, instead of supplementing her mana with notes.
She must’ve been using the skill when the boy touched her, and drained him of mana.
Nymin had her hands clutched in front of her and was floating away and down, already sunk into the street up to her ankles. Her face was wracked with mortification, but Dyani could help but notice that her glow had brightened and edges had become crisper. Clearly, this kid had a substantial amount of mana if a brief touch had such a significant effect.
“Guards! Guards! Arrest this creature!” the woman shouted. Dyani tensed, but no guards appeared. They were all busy with the district wide search that had brought all these people here.
“I’m sorry. It was an accident.”
“Leave my mom alone,” Dyani said, planting herself between the two mothers.
“Mom? You’re this creature’s spawn? Where’d you find that human skin to hide your true face, you shattered, forsaken-”
“That’s enough mother.” The young man that had been drained was climbing to his feet with the help of a nearby man, who fled the moment we all looked in their direction. He was short and stocky, and looked astonishingly like a friendly bulldog transformed into a man.
“It is not, Callestris. You have no notion. You could have died. This creature would have bled you dry of mana and feasted on your bones. Worn your skin like her spawn there.” The woman actually poked Dyani with her finger, and it took all her good sense and resolve to keep from grabbing the hand, pulling the woman off balance, and punching her in the gut.
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Not that it would’ve done much good. Dyani could sense this woman’s level was far greater than hers. She likely had enough strength to rip Dyani in half, though it was hard to believe this talking whistle could do anything but make noise.
“Mother, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have touched her without permission. I was just curious.” The bulldog of a man bowed to Nymin, still sinking into the ground.
“My greatest apologies ma’am. I acted without thought in a manner unbecoming to a gentleman.”
Dyani glared at the back of his head. She’d known her mother would never be so careless as to drain someone else's mana, without them doing something stupid and grabbing at her. At least he was taking responsibility for it, unlike his mother, who looked like a neglected kettle on the stove that was about to proceed from whistling to just exploding.
The woman swelled, but a modicum of decorum stopped her from spewing out whatever vitriol she’d gathered. Instead, she glared first at Dyani, then at Nymin.
“When my husband is city lord, your kind will be removed, and put to use, just like that other beast of a boy when they find him. Enjoy your last days of freedom.”
Her son was still bowing, likely waiting for some response from Nymin. She yanked him up and marched away, anyone in her way clearing more space for her than they had for Nymin.
“Come on, mom,” Dyani said quietly. Let's get out of here.
They made their way to Hoss’s Pawn without any other incidents. To Dyani’s disappointment, the shop was open. She could see Hoss in his usual place through the window. Dyani took a deep breath and opened the door. The bell on the door rang, and Hoss looked up. He looked between Dyani and her mother for longer than usual before returning his eyes to his book.
It was The Last Stand at Iron Gate, the book that Dyani had recommended to him. It caught her off guard long enough for Nymin to speak first.
“You must be Mr. Hoss.”
“Just Hoss,” Hoss grunted without looking up, “What do you need?”
Dyani jumped into the conversation.
“My mom just wanted to see where I work. Thanks again for the job, Mr. Hoss.”
This time, Hoss actually put the book away, saving his place with one of his enchanted placards that could be engraved in an instant. He looked at Dyani, then her mother, then back at Dyani.
The silence was agonizing.
“Welcome,” Hoss said finally, standing up and walking around the desk. He extended a hand for Nymin to shake.
“Sorry, Mr. Ho-I mean Hoss,” Nymin said, holding up her hands, “As you can see, my talent makes me intangible.”
“No need for sorry.” Hoss pulled back his hand and gave Nymin a small nod. There was a brief, awkward pause where nobody said anything. Already filled to the brim with anxiety, Dyani couldn’t take it anymore.
“Hoss, my mom just wanted to see where I work…here…for you.” She cursed herself. That hadn’t sounded at all convincing. She just hoped that Nymin would interpret it as the understandable awkwardness of introducing your parent to your boss.
Hoss raised an eyebrow, and the smallest, bemused smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.
“I see.”
There was another awkward pause, a profound torture while she waited to see if her lie would be exposed.
“Dyani’s a good worker,” Hoss finally said, “Late sometimes, but good.”
“Late? Dyani, is that true?” Nymin gave her daughter a scolding look that Dyani endured eagerly, “I taught you better than that.”
After giving a short lecture to Dyani about punctuality, Nymin had a somewhat stilted conversation with Hoss about her job duties. The man’s naturally reserved demeanor served as an effective cover for his simple answers.
Eventually, Nymin thanked Hoss for his time and kissed Dyani on the cheek.
“Have a good day at work.”
“You mean, I can keep the job?” Dyani asked, hopefully. Hoss snorted, but he covered the outburst with a cough.
Nymin lowered her voice, “For now. Hoss seems like a reasonable man. Do your best, and let me know if he asks you to do anything unsafe or that you’re not sure about. Otherwise, I think this is an excellent job for you, especially if it pays as well as you said.”
“And be on time. No one likes a tardy worker.”
Dyani agreed readily to her mother’s terms and waved at her as she left.
“Have a good day, Acorn.”
“You too, mom.”
Once Nymin was out of sight, Dyani turned to Hoss.
“Thank you. I owe you for that.”
“For the lie?,” he said, “No, you don’t.” He once again set his book aside. His deeply set eyes only lingered on her for a moment, but Dyani felt a shiver, like he was using his analysis ability on her.
Then he sighed, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head.
“There’s no escape, is there?”
“No escape from what?” Dyani asked, happy to have anything to focus on besides lying to her mother.
“Nevermind, kid. Just tell me, whatever you’re doing, is it worth it?” Dyani opened her mouth to answer, but Hoss held up a hand to stop her.
“Think it through.”
Dyani huffed, but obliged.
She considered her father, his death and his life, all the monsters he’d slain and the people that had been saved because of it. She considered her own future, her dreams of following in his footsteps that were dashed by the revelation of her level 1 talent, and the flimsy hope that if she could just get a bit more experience, her level 2 talent could fix it.
“I hope it’s worth it, but I won’t know until afterward.”
Hoss chuckled
“All I can ask, I guess. Just don’t die.”
“That’s the plan,” Dyani answered, still bewildered that she was having an actual conversation with the quiet shopkeeper, “By the way, how do you like the book?”
“Well enough,” Hoss said, picking up the book, “Not very accurate on the mana node and its guardian, but that’s to be expected in a novel.”
Dyani frowned. The book she’d recommended was the story of a group of underleveled adventurers holding back the floor of monsters from a metal-type mana node that was increasing in level. She didn’t remember any major inaccuracies, but she knew little of how mana nodes worked, only that they released ambient mana and the untethered ones released monsters.
How would a shopkeeper know anything about mana nodes?
“What do you mean?” Dyani asked, but in that moment Hoss decided to revert to his normal silence, a persona that she was growing confident was just a mask he put on.
Considering everything he’d done for her today, Dyani decided not to push it.
Instead, she pulled out the skill core she’d gotten from killing a Plover Moss, which instantly got Hoss’s attention.
“Give it here.”
She handed over the core and waited in hopeful silence as Hoss closed his eyes and rolled it around in his hands. After a minute, he grabbed one of his enchanted placards, which inscribed itself with the core’s description.
Dyani snatched it as soon as it was offered, but as she read it her excitement was swiftly joined with disgust.
* Skill Core: Spore (Common)
* Type: Conjuration/Combination
* Affinity: Plant
* Range: Short
* Cost: Low mana
* Effect: Conjure a cloud of noxious spores that attempt to infect any flesh they come into contact with. The user is not immune to this infection. This skill grants limited control over any conjured spores for a short time after casting. You may combine this ability with compatible poison or plant type skills to alter the effect.
* Price: 120 Notes
“Spore?” she asked, shivering at the memory of her infection.
“Good skill,” Hoss said, shrugging at her obvious distaste, “Rare to see a combination skill of this strength that isn’t just a melee attack.”
The Combination category included any skill that could be combined with another skill to create a hybrid effect, and could be extremely powerful, especially if you could get three or more compatible skills.
But even if she could objectively see the value, the memory of having this skill used on her soured her opinion of it.
At least until she noticed the selling price.
A hundred and twenty notes was a fortune, even for someone with a real job and savings. For her, it was an unthinkable amount of money. She’d expected a good price for a skill core; a weaker skill averaged a hundred notes, but considering the source, she would’ve been happy to get fifty notes.
She squashed the impulse to take her money now, opting to wait for the skill core to be sold to get seventy five percent of the selling price, instead of sixty.
With the kind of equipment she could buy with that money, and the armor her father had left her, she’d be burning through monsters like a wildfire.